


Kyoutani Kentarou and the Zombie Apocalypse

by minaasshido



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Iwaizumi Hajime is a Good Friend, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oikawa Tooru is a Little Shit, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Team Dynamics, Zombie Apocalypse, but they're all OCs, he's trying he's just awkward, i'm sorry kyoutani, kyoutani kentarou is bad at feelings, tbh this fic focuses just as much on friendship as it does romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minaasshido/pseuds/minaasshido
Summary: When it all begins, Kentarou is at home.(By the time it ends, he's found a new one.)
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Kyoutani Kentarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kyoutani Kentarou & Oikawa Tooru, Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Kyoutani Kentarou and the Zombie Apocalypse

When it all begins, Kentarou is at home. 

It doesn't seem real. He's sitting on the couch with his younger sister, watching the news station flash image after gruesome image, each one blurred for viewer discretion. His arms are tight around her, and he can feel her tremble against him. Or maybe that's just him. 

His parents are in the kitchen. He thinks they're arguing- it's not exactly a rare thing, but the way their voices barely reach his ears, all harsh whispers and frantic hissing, is new. For once he wishes he knew what they were saying. 

"Ken?" Hana asks. She's looking up at him with those wide eyes of hers. His chest aches- if this is real (and that's an _if_ , because he doesn't quite want to believe it yet) then he knows what that means for her. He's seen the movies. He's read the books, played the video games. Innocence is something you leave behind in situations like this. There's no room for that shit in a world where the dead walk. "What is this?"

He thinks he knows, but he can't make himself say it. He just squeezes her tighter. Momo pads into the room, collar jingling softly, as if sensing the sibling's distress. She nudges his knee with her nose. Hana reaches over his lap to pet the top of her head. 

"Once bitten, infection is inevitable," says the television. "Patient Zero was admitted to Takanawa Hospital just one week ago. Quarantine efforts were unsuccessful due to the black and white nature of the disease. Once the deceased patients began showing signs of life, medical professionals were eager to try and discover what they could." A new image replaces the reporter's face on the screen. Almost everything is blurred out, but there's no mistaking the dark red that decorates whatever is under the pixels. Hana tenses in Kentarou's arms. "Their attempts at communication were unsuccessful. The head administrator at Takanawa released this statement earlier this morning: _As far as we are able to tell, these people are well and truly dead. Once bitten, infection is guaranteed. Once infected, death is guaranteed. Once dead, reanimation is guaranteed. And for the public's safety, I will add this. Once reanimated, kill it. It's no longer human. Kill it as quick as you can, and don't let it touch you._ Communication from inside the hospital has since gone dark."

It. Kentarou's mind won't move past the word, like some sort of broken record. She'd called them _it_. Like they weren't human anymore. 

"So like... like zombies?" Hana asks. She's thirteen and nowhere near stupid, but somehow he'd been hoping she would be able to remain oblivious just a little bit longer. For her own sake, and maybe his as well. 

"Guess so," he tells her, voice low. His head falls forward in defeat and Momo crawls up on the couch, licking at his cheek. He doesn't even duck away like he usually does. "Fuck."

"The epidemic is already spreading outside of the containment zones," says the reporter. They show a map detailing the severity of the spread in each district. Kentarou's house is in the red.

"Please tell me this is a joke," she begs. Her fingers are curled around his bicep and she's gripping him so tight he thinks he might bruise. "This is- they'll get it under control, right? Before it gets here."

"It's _already_ here," he snaps. He immediately regrets it when he sees tears well up in his sister's eyes. He curses under his breath. "Wait, no," he says. "Listen. We'll figure something out. We just gotta-" He cuts himself off because he doesn't know what comes next. He doesn't know what they're supposed to do.

The reporter drones on. "Law enforcement is working with the military to establish a series of safe havens. If you are in immediate danger and are not infected, we urge you to seek one out." The screen shows a map, with stars near each area that's got one. There's one a couple cities over.

Kentarou always thought that he'd be prepared for something like this. When he was younger, he'd imagine what he would do in the event of a zombie apocalypse. He'd always pictured himself as some badass killing machine, with dual swords and the cold, hardened countenance of a warrior. Right now, though, he just feels helpless.

The voices in the kitchen grow louder. A few words slip through the cracks in the door. _Leave,_ he hears. _Not safe._

He squeezes his arms tight around Hana, just once, just for a moment. "Let's put some stuff together," he whispers. "Just in case."

"Okay," she says back, quiet. They untangle from each other and move to stand. Momo hops off the couch, tail wagging, ready to tag along. Kentarou wonders if the dead go after animals too. He wonders if his parents are going to tell him to leave his dog behind to get eaten if they leave.

They're nearly to the stairs when suddenly a frantic pounding starts. Kentarou nearly jumps out of his skin when he realizes it's their door. There's a muffled shouting coming from behind the wood. He doesn't think the dead can shout- does that mean it's a person?

He moves towards the door. The pounding is still going, so he reaches out and knocks back. "The fuck do you want?" he shouts, loud enough to be heard from the other side.

Impossibly, the knocking gets louder, faster. "Let me in!" Someone begs. "Please, they're coming! Let me in!" Kentarou's heart stops at the words. He turns to look at Hana. She's staring back at him with wide eyes from the foot of the stairs, gripping Momo's collar with white knuckles. He turns back to stare at the painted wood.

He somehow works up the courage to yell, "What's coming?" before he's yanked back by the collar. He stumbles into the bookcase, hissing when his shoulder catches on the corner. His father takes his place in front of the door, kicking at it harshly.

"Ken!" Hana starts, but he holds up a hand in lieu of telling her out loud to stay back. He shuffles away himself, putting some distance between himself and the front door. His mother comes out of the kitchen and moves around him to join his father.

"The hell is this noise?" he father says. 

"Let me in!" the stranger pleads. "Please, I'm begging you! I'll do anything! Please! Oh gods!"

Hana whimpers from behind him. "Dad, please!" she says. "He needs help!" 

His father kicks the door once more. "Fuck!" he shouts. "Fine, just shut-!" He reaches out to yank open the door. The knob turns, right at the same time the man outside screams. 

Kentarou's heart jumps into his throat. "Wait-" he says, but all at once it's too late. The man falls into the entryway, collapsing on the floor. He's bleeding- that much is obvious. There's barely time to look before someone else steps in behind him, and all too quick they're leaning forwards and gripping his father tight, clamping their jaws tight around the base of his throat and _oh._

It's a not a someone. 

His feet move before his mind does. He stumbles back, tripping into the kitchen at lightning speed. What is he doing in here? What does he need? What does he do?

A weapon. A knife. That's what he needs. A knife. He makes a dash for the holder on the counter and grabs the biggest one he can see at first glance and rushes back into the living room. Something's happening- there's red everywhere, and someone's shrieking, high pitched and terrified, and someone else is on the floor- no, two someones, and a very pale figure is limping towards him very fast. Every light is too bright, every noise is too loud. His lungs are too _small,_ each new breath loud and heavy and not enough. What's happening? What's going on?

"Kentarou!" Hana screams, and suddenly he's back in his body. 

He has just enough awareness to yell, "Hana, run!" before he's lunging forwards, bringing the knife up high and sinking it into the skull of the zombie- because, fuck, that's a zombie- that's coming towards him. _Go for the head,_ his comics had told him, and he isn't about to take the chance that they were wrong. 

The thing collapses and he throws himself back so that it misses him by mere inches as it drops to the floor with a dull _thud._ He stands, frozen, staring at it. 

"Dad," Hana sobs. He reaches out on instinct and she collides with his arm, stopping her from getting any closer. His eyes move across the floor to the open doorway. He doesn't look for long- bile comes up in the back of his throat and he presses his forearm hard against his mouth as he moves his gaze to the ceiling, but even that short moment had been enough to see the lifeless expression on his father's face, the gaping wound right in the center of his neck, the blood that covered his throat and shoulders and the floor around him. 

"Shit," he says, and his voice sounds far away. "Shit."

There's a wet, gasping sort of noise coming from somewhere near his left. Something catches in his throat and his chest tightens anxiously. He just barely manages to throw himself to the side as another zombie stumbles through the door. It's slower than the last one, so there's time to look at it- it's strange, because it doesn't look like a zombie. It's pale, and a little smelly, but other than the shadowed eyes and the blood all down its front, Kentarou can't really say it looks all that dead. Usually, in the movies, zombies are these rotted, flaying corpses, far enough away from being human that nobody feels all too bad about killing them. But looking at this thing, it's impossible to ignore that it (he?) had been alive probably mere hours ago. 

It's that fact that makes him hesitate. He pushes Hana back, keeping her behind him, but he stumbles. Momo barks and the sound makes him raise the knife on instinct. 

The thing cocks its head to the side like it's listening for something, and all of the sudden it's lurching sideways. Kentarou hears a scream and he realizes, he remembers that his mother is still there in the corner of his eye. "Fuck!" he swears. He rushes forward and brings down the knife, blade sinking into the head of the zombie. It makes a sick noise as it slumps down, falling forward, face dragging along his mother's front as it descends. Kentarou watches in horror as its head tilts back and then snaps forward, teeth having caught on her arm. He stares at the bloody indents left behind in the skin. The marks go so deep he can see white past all the muscles for just a moment before red pools in the holes and spills to the floor.

"No," Hana is crying, sobbing, behind him. He thinks he should probably be crying too. He doesn't know why he isn't. "No, mom! Dad!"

More noise comes from outside, and without thinking Kentarou reaches out and slams the door closed. Something stops it from closing all the way- he looks down and realizes that it's his father- slumped in the doorway, half covered by the corpse of the zombie who'd killed him. "Shit," he hisses. He presses his forearm against his lips as he reaches out with his foot and pushes against the body. It barely budges. 

"Don't kick your father," his mother tells him. She sounds dazed. 

She doesn't seem to notice that three more zombies are stumbling up the path, probably having been drawn in by the screaming. He kicks some more, faster and more desperate, but it does nothing. The zombies are getting closer, and in a last ditch effort he bends down and grabs his father's cooling wrists and tugs, pulling both bodies further into the house before throwing himself against the door. 

One of the zombies manages to get its arm between the door, so he can't close it all the way. Hana lets out a whimper and his eyes shoot to hers, sees the tears running down her face. 

He looks down at his father and the three strangers, dead at his feet. He looks at his mother, who's staring down at her bleeding arm, eyes glazed over. He presses himself against the door as one of the zombies throws itself against it, making it jerk. 

He tosses her the knife.

It clatters to the floor, but she's quick to pick it up. She stares at him with big, watery eyes. "Ken?"

"You need to run," he tells her. It hurts to say, the words cut his throat on their way out, but he can't let her stay here. Here she's trapped. Here he doesn't know if he can save her.

Hana's lip trembles. "What?"

His feet slip a little on the ground, wet with blood, and he nearly loses his grip on the door. "The refugee center," he rushes out. "The one on the news. Did you see which one was closest?"

"Yes," she says. "But, Ken-"

"Just go!" he pleads. "I'll meet you there!" It's probably not the best option, but there isn't much else to do. Hana stares back at him, glances between him and his mother, flinches when the door shakes and the hand sticking in gropes around, looking for something to touch. "Go out the back door, I'll cover you," he says. "Please."

Hana stares at him hard, sobbing, like she's trying to memorize what he looks like. She takes a small step back. "Okay," she whispers, and her voice cracks around the word. "Okay. I- meet me there," she says. "You better meet me there."

"I will," he promises. He watches he tighten her grip on the knife, face set in determination even through he tears, and take off for the back door. He hears it open and slam, and he heaves a sigh. "I will," he says again. And then he lets the door give in. 

He turns around just enough to land a kick on the chest of the closest zombie, sending it stumbling back into the two behind it. "Mom, come on!" he gasps, grabbing her by her uninjured arm and pulling her along with him. He's got a half-baked plan, and he isn't sure if it'll even work, but it'll buy Hana time and distract these three so it's better than nothing. He drags his mother along and she trips after him, still out of it, making his way to the stairs.

He doesn't get very far up before his mother's foot catches on a stair and he's being jerked down by the grip he still has on her. Pain shoots up his leg and he thinks he hears something snap over the growls of the creatures behind him. He just barely manages to catch himself on the railing and avoid tumbling down to the floor. 

He hisses in pain, tugging at his mother's arm. "Mom, get up," he says. He looks up. They hadn't had a very long head start- it'll be seconds before the zombies are on them. He can hear Momo barking just around the corner. "Mom," he begs, insistent. "Get the fuck up!"

"Go." He thinks he's hallucinating at first, that he's mistaken a growl for his mother speaking, but then she says it again, and her mouth is definitely moving. "Go, Ken. I'm dead already."

His eyes bug out. "What the hell, no, I-"

His mother looks up at him, and her eyes are still glassed over and foggy, but there's a fire in them too now, a hard set to her jaw that he's barely ever seen before. "GO!" she shouts. She rips her arm out of his grip and shoves him up the stairs and he stumbles backwards and then suddenly the zombies are _there,_ and-

he can't watch. 

He can't look away.

His mind goes blank as he scrambles up the rest of the stairs, ignoring the stabbing pain in his leg, drags himself down the upstairs hallway and into his room. He slams the door shut, quickly moving to push his bed in front of it. Something starts scratching at the door and his heart leaps into his throat and he can't breathe and his hands are shaking. 

They can't get in, he tells himself. He's okay. They didn't bite him and the can't get in.

He times his breathing to the beat of a song in his head and tries not to listen to his mother's screams as she's eaten alive.

* * * * *

Kentarou makes a splint for his leg after the first hour. Once he's stopped panicking, he comes to the realization that he most definitely _had_ heard a snap earlier, because the angle that his leg is bent is not natural. Thankfully its in the middle of his shin, and he thinks it probably could have been worse- the bone could've cut through his skin, or the break could've been in a less obvious place like his ankle, which would have made first aid nearly impossible. He still doesn't know what he's doing, but he crawls over to his closet and grabs a pair of sweats, and then some scissors from his desk. He breaks the legs off his chair. 

He chickens out of setting his leg seven times before finally just thinking 'fuck it' and doing it. He bites into his pillow to muffle his cry, but the scratching at his door starts up anew anyway. He blinks tears out of his eyes as he presses two chair legs on either side of his own leg and ties them in place with the cut strips of his pants. It's rudimentary at best, but Kentarou doesn't think that going to the doctor's is an option anymore, and this is the best he can manage.

He takes inventory the second hour. He scours his room for weapons- he's got the scissors from his desk, and when he re-checks his closet he finds his metal baseball bat hidden behind the shoe rack. It's not much, but it would have to be enough. He doesn't have anything to drink, and the only food he has is a half-eaten box of crackers: not good. It means that he has to get up sooner rather than later, because he needs to eat, and all the food is downstairs. There's three zombies for sure between his next meal. He doesn't let himself think that his parents might also add two to that number.

In the third hour, he crawls up on his bed and presses his ear against the door. He gently taps his knuckles against the wood. He nearly jumps back when the sound is almost immediately answered by that terrible scratching. He forces himself to stay put and listen. As far as he can tell, there's only one out there. 

He throws on a sweatshirt that covers his arms and tightens the cloth around his splint. With great effort, he pulls one end of his bed away from the wall at an angle, leaving enough room that the door could be opened just wide enough for a person to squeeze through with some effort. Heart pounding, he reaches out with a trembling hand and twists the doorknob, letting the door fall open. He limps backward as fast as he can, gripping his scissors so hard his knuckles turn white. 

Almost immediately the zombie from the hallway bursts in. It spots him right away- the edge of the bed and the wall create a pathway that leads it straight to him, no funny business, and Kentarou doesn't allow himself to think about it before he's ducking around those outstretched arms and jamming the blades of the scissors right through the side of its head. He lets it fall to the floor and nearly trips over the body in his haste to slam his door closed again. He presses his back against it, eyes wide and breathing heavy, and thinks, _holy shit, that worked._

He repeats it two more times- he draws one of the zombies in with noise, lets them in and kills them before they can even open their mouths to bite at him. It's a relief once the third one hits the floor, but he still shuts his door just in case. The door downstairs had been left open, so more could've wandered in.

He doesn't know for sure, though, and now he can't afford to play it safe anymore. He needs to get down there to close the door anyway, and he needs to- Kentarou holds back the urge to vomit. His parents' bodies are still in the house. He has to get them out before they turn.

Opening the door to his room is a process, and it probably takes him around twenty minutes to work up to doing it. He does it slowly, wincing when it creaks. He leans heavily against the wall in an attempt to keep his weight off his leg. He has his metal bat in one hand and the scissors in the other, ready for anything- or at least as ready as he can be. 

When he gets to the top of the stairs, he freezes. 

His mother is crumpled at the bottom, and really, if he hadn't _seen_ his mother go down in that exact spot, he wouldn't be able to tell it was her. Everything is stripped away- any skin left is dyed red with blood, most of the muscle bitten away to expose bone. Even her face is ripped apart, her hair stringy and dried in clumps, covering what may or may not be her eyes. It already smells.

Kentarou doubles over and heaves out the contents of his stomach. 

He hobbles back to his room to get a blanket, gently putting it over his mother's corpse before gripping her by the ankles and dragging her across the floor into the living room. He can feel the weight of the scissors in his pocket, ready to grab them should he hear a noise, but as he looks around the room he realizes he's the only living thing in there. 

It's hard work, but eventually he get not only his mother but his father and the other two bodies onto the porch without much trouble. He shuts and locks the door right away. He makes his way around the rest of the house, checking each room, closing and locking the back door as well. He makes a blockade, too, dragging the boxes of shit they had in the back room and piling them against the door. 

He finds Momo hiding in the basement. Her fur is ragged and clotted with blood, but from as far as he can tell, none of it's hers. He actually cries when he sees her, buries his face in her smelly fur and just sobs. Somehow, the fact that she'd made it out okay is what breaks him. He thinks he's just relieved that he isn't going to have to spend the next two months alone, give or take.

Because that's the new reality he has to deal with. Now that he's stopped dragging himself all over the house, the last of his adrenaline has worn off and he feels like death. His leg is throbbing, and he has to sit down and fix his splint because it's coming undone thanks to all his moving around. And he knows. He knows that he isn't going anywhere on this stupid leg. He's lucky enough that he managed to clear the house, because if he'd been forced to run he isn't sure how long he would've lasted. Definitely nowhere near long enough for his leg to even begin healing. 

Kentarou fills a bowl with water and pours it over the bloodstains on the stairs and the living room floor, bringing up a mop from the basement to try and get rid of the mess. He digs out some cleaning solution and even a bottle of bleach from under the sink and he spends a good hour or two scrubbing at the hardwood floors. The house smells like chemicals for days after, and there's still a red tint to the areas of the floor he'd cleaned, but it's better than nothing. At least now he can pretend like his father hadn't bled out in the doorway, can ignore the stains of his mother's dying breaths at the bottom of the stairs.

He sets up barricades, too. It takes him nearly ten minutes, but in small increments he's able to move the TV armoire to lean against the front door. He closes the curtains on all the windows, then spends another thirty pulling the cabinet from his parent's room to block off the big window in the living room. It's probably just paranoia, but if a few really dedicated zombies got on the porch, they could probably break the glass, so it's better to be safe than sorry. 

He braves reentering his room just the once to gather up his clothes and anything else he might need. He gags around the stench of the rotting corpses, stuffing all his things into a few bags and dragging them down the stairs. He gets blankets from his sister's and parent's room and he sets up camp on the couch. He keeps his baseball bat close, leaning against the arm of the couch, and the scissors on top of the little nightstand he'd managed to carry over, along with an array of kitchen knives. He drags Momo's dog bed into the living room too.

The weeks go by maddeningly slow. It takes a full six days for the power to finally go, but he'd figured it wouldn't last so he'd started making his way through the fridge first to avoid wasting the non-perishables too soon. He manages to get in a shower on the morning of the last day, and he's got all the bowls and cups and containers filled with water as a precaution, taking up all the space on the counters and the table and in the cupboards- really, wherever he can find room. 

He reads all the books in the house. He reads them again. He plays board games by himself. He ventures into his father's office to get some pens and gather the paper out of the printer and he draws. Every couple weeks or so he cleans to keep the dust away. He does his best to play with Momo. He reads all the books again, but this time he writes little notes in them. He picks out his favorites, and he reads those some more. The spines start to wear out. He runs out of paper to draw on. He gets bored playing chess by himself, especially now that he's lost at least three pawns.

Even with most of the curtains drawn, he's still able to keep track of the sun's movements, so he keeps a tally. It's the only reason he knows that 58 days have passed when he finally runs out of water. Honestly, he's surprised that he's lasted this long, and really only by sheer luck and aggressive planning ahead. He'd been eating and drinking pretty sparingly, but he'd also had to share with Momo, which definitely left a dent on supplies. His dog's a lot skinner than she used to be. Kentarou assumes he's the same. He can't really bring himself to look in the mirrors when he walks past, but his knuckles stand out a lot more than they used to, he thinks, and he looks a lot bonier in general when he stares down at his body. 

Kentarou knows that this means he's got to leave. Human beings can only survive without water for three days, and that's probably pushing it. Thankfully, he's been practicing walking normally the past week, even though his leg was still sore, so it's not like he's got to relearn to move without hopping on top of venturing out into the apocalypse for the first time since it started.

And god, isn't that a thought? Kentarou thinks he's probably pretty lucky that he's been holed up this whole time with supplies. He knows he's less lucky that aside from his dog, the only family he has left _is_ out there, and the circumstances under which he'd fought his first zombies weren't enviable in the slightest. But now that he's being faced with the unavoidable fact that he's got to leave his house, he's terrified. He doesn't know what it's like out there. He doesn't know how bad it's gotten. What if he steps outside and gets bitten immediately? 

The only thing he knows is that he's got to pack like he's not planning on returning, because he isn't. Now that his leg is mostly healed, and he's got no supplies keeping him here, he has to find his sister. He'd sent Hana to that safehaven all those weeks ago, and despite not being religious, he prays that it's still standing. For both his sister's sake and his own. 

He manages to shove everything in his backpack- he's going to be traveling on foot, so it's not like he can just lug around a shit ton of bags and not be putting himself in danger. He balls up two extra sets of clothes, shoving them to the bottom of his bag along with his three favorite books (maybe that space would be better taken up by something more useful, but he's going to selfishly allow himself this one indulgence). He takes enough food to last him at least until he can find more, along with a flashlight, batteries, a light, and some other stuff. He wraps his collection of kitchen knives in a towel. He cuts out the bottom of the water bottle holder on the side of the bag so that he can slide his bat into it.

When the time finally comes to leave, Kentarou feels like he might just die of anxiety instead of a bite. Momo's right by his side, tail wagging like she knows she gets to go outside- he guesses some things never change. He's glad at least one of them is excited. He undoes the barricade of boxes by the back door, pulls back the curtain to check (no zombies that he can see) and slowly, carefully, bat gripped in one hand, opens the door.

Momo runs out in front of him, circling around the yard excitably. For one terrifying moment, he thinks she's going to run off and leave him well and truly alone, but as soon as he steps outside, she doubles to hover near his side. He can't help but reach down and scratch behind her ear for that. "Good dog," he tells her, and his voice is weak and scratchy from disuse. 

He makes one last stop before he really moves on. He moves to the side of the house, pulling out the key to the garage. He lets himself in- bat raised defensively even though he knows that there aren't any zombies inside. He holds the door open for Momo before closing it behind him. Light filters in through the windows on the garage door, so he doesn't bother with the flashlight. He trudges over to his dad's workstation, shrugging off his backpack and opening one of the smaller compartments. He goes through the drawers. He comes up with a screwdriver, a wrench, and a level. Not much, but the first two might come in handy at some point, so he shoves them into his bag. The last thing he grabs is his dad's hunting knife. There's a holster for it and everything, and he fastens it around his waist. The handle is easy enough to reach.

He whistles lowly for Momo to follow him and she trots after him as he exits the garage and finally, finally, leaves behind his home. Walking away leaves a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't let himself look back. He thinks that if he does, he might cave and just go back and lock himself inside until he withers away into nothing. 

He can't do that.

Kentarou has no fucking clue where to even start in this brand new world, so he clings to the familiar and sets a course to the grocery store. It's probably a bad bet, considering that's where everyone always goes right at the beginning, stripping the shelves clean, but it can't hurt to check. He passes a gas station on the way, but other than a few bags of chips and some sparkling water (both of which he scarfs down like a starved man) there's nothing. If even the gas stations are picked clean, he doesn't have very high hopes for the actual grocery stores.

Nonetheless, he picks his way across town, sticking to the side streets and alleys as best he can. He runs into a few wandering zombies, but he manages to avoid confrontation, which is what he'd prefer. 

Momo is perfect. She seems to realize that noise is deadly, and she keeps silent most of them time. She growls in warning when she spots a zombie, loud enough to alert Kentarou but quiet enough that the zombie can't hear and notice their presence. 

It takes a while to get to the store, definitely longer than if he'd just taken the normal route, which even then, is far enough away that he'd only ever gone by car. The parking lot is empty aside from a car with all the doors hanging open and the shopping carts lined up in the corrals. It looks empty and abandoned and wrong. Come to think of it, most places Kentarou had passed on the way had looked similar.

The sliding doors don't work, but the glass has been broken in anyway so it's not much of an issue. He keeps his knife held up in front of his face, doing a quick visual sweep of the parts of the store he can see. It looks safe for now, and he's got a dog with better senses than him, but caution never hurt anybody. 

Unfortunately, the further he gets into the store the more he realizes that his initial assumption had been correct: there was hardly anything on the shelves. He manages to find almost a full stock of kibble, though, and he drags a bag off the shelf and cuts it open for Momo to eat. She nudges the bag further open with her snout before going to town. For a brief, terrible moment, he contemplates taking a handful or two for himself, just to preserve his actual food. Thankfully, he isn't that desperate yet, so he pushes the thought aside in favor of sweeping the next few aisles.

He's examining what he thinks is a lonely can of sardines when he hears a shuffling noise in the next aisle and tenses up. He's moving pretty quietly, so maybe he can avoid the zombie- but he isn't done searching the store, and he doesn't want to risk a surprise attack later. Reaching for his side, and unsheathes his knife and creeps towards the end of the shelving, peering into the next aisle. Kentarou nearly makes an audible sound of surprise when he realizes what he's seeing. There is indeed a zombie in the aisle, but there's another figure, too- one that is distinctly alive. The way they're moving, perusing the shelves like some regular customer is evidence enough. They're tall, with fluffy brown hair and are nowhere near bloody enough to be dead anyway. They're also oblivious to the zombie coming up behind them, and now that Kentarou's listening, he thinks he can hear whoever it is humming to themselves. He feels annoyed by the revelation, because who in the hell would be stupid enough to make _noise_ unnecessarily?

And while he might think that this stranger, whoever they are, is annoying, he also isn't enough of an asshole to just let them get bit as retribution. He moves without thinking, rushing up behind the zombie as silently as he can and yanking it back by the collar before it can get too close to its target. The sound of the scuffle seems to finally draw the attention of the stranger, who turns around with a knife ready and terror on their face- only for the expression to turn into one of shock as they watch Kentarou stab his knife into the back of the zombie's head, pulling it out quick and leaving the body to collapse to the floor with a dull thud. 

He frowns down at his knife and flicks it outwards, trying to get some of the blood off. The stranger sputters, and when he looks up, they still have the knife raised, the blade pointed at him. 

Kentarou just stares. 

"What the hell?" says the stranger. "You couldn't have warned me?" Kentarou just gestures toward the body on the floor as if to say, _I had it,_ , but the stranger isn't appeased. "What if you hadn't gotten to it in time?"

"I did though," he points out. His voice cracks, throat dry and unused to having to speak. He brings up a hand to rub at his collarbone, clearing his throat to get the feeling to go away.

The stranger doesn't take his eyes off him. They have some strange sort of staring contest, and Kentarou feels like he's being looked right through, picked at and pulled apart and he doesn't like it. Anxiously, he whistles for his dog. He sees the stranger tense up, almost like he's going to make a move with his knife, before Momo pads around the end of the aisle. Kentarou doesn't back down, keeps glaring at the stranger, but he reaches a hand out for Momo, and she comes right up to him and pushes the top of her head into his palm.

"My dog will fuck you up if you try anything," he tells the stranger. 

Momo doesn't seem to get the memo, because she trots forwards and sniffs at the strangers pockets before licking at his hip, panting happily. He glares at her, but he's only a little angry- she must be happy to see another living person for the first time in two months. 

Annoyingly enough, this is what finally gets the stranger to lower his knife. He doesn't tuck it away, but he lets it hang at his side, and he shoots Kentarou an amicable grin as he reaches down to pat Momo on the head. "Oh, I think you're all talk!" Even with that cheery voice and smile, those eyes are still cautious and calculating. It makes Kentarou want to grab his dog and walk right out the store and take his chances alone. Even so, he stays rooted to the spot. "Your dog seems to like me."

He blinks at the guy. "Just like that?" He's a little wary of the instant trust, and it must show on his face because the stranger sends him an amused look in return.

"You have a dog with you," he says, like that explains everything. "But also, I'm not a complete idiot. I don't trust you, I just don't think it's very logical to kill another human after he's saved my life." Kentarou shrugs in agreement. The man waves his hand dismissively and changes the subject. "Anyway, you haven't happened to see three guys walking around, have you? All pretty tall, devilishly handsome, probably crying out for and/or missing someone called Tooru?"

Kentarou raises an eyebrow. "Why in the hell would I run into a group of people and then voluntarily go off on my own?"

Tooru, he guesses the guy's name is, shrugs. "You seem like the type," he tells him. "But I'm guessing that means you're sticking with me then?" He opens his mouth to argue, but then realizes how stupid he'd look doing so right after he made that comment. He clenches his jaw and avoids meeting the other's eyes. He can hear the smug grin in Tooru's voice as he says, "Excellent! You can help me look for the rest of my group then. We've been separated. I'm Oikawa." He holds out his hand to shake.

"Obviously," Kentarou grumbles, deliberately ignoring the outstretched hand. "And I thought your name was Tooru?"

Oikawa smiles pleasantly. "Not to you it isn't!" he sing-songs. Kentarou holds back a groan. He does not like this guy. "And what's your name, Mister Dark and Handsome?"

"Don't call me that," he says, but he doesn't make any move to tell this guy his name. Maybe it's petty, but he doesn't want to.

"Hm, playing hard to get, are we?" Oikawa muses. "I'll just have to make you up a name then!"

Kentarou sputters. "I'm not a pet!" he protests.

"Well I can't very well keep calling you nothing," the other man points out. Then, his face lights up. "Oh, I know! I'll call you Mad Dog."

"No." He bristles at the nickname. It's blatantly obvious the guy has chosen it to dig under his skin, and he's loathe to admit he's succeeding. 

"I think it's fitting," Oikawa says. "Will you at least tell me the name of your dog? Or do I need to call him puppy?"

"Her," Kentarou corrects, but he doesn't give any further information. 

Oikawa just laughs. "Well, aren't you a tough cookie! Guess I'll have to work at it." He sends a wink his way, and Kentarou angrily blushes as he pointedly looks away. "Come now, we should check the rest of the store before we get going! We might find something good."

Kentarou doubts it, but he follows anyway. Momo stays close by his heels, nudging his hand with her nose every once in a while as if sensing his discomfort. He trails a short ways behind Oikawa, watching him strut up and down the aisles, effortlessly twirling his knife as he goes around each corner. He seems to be comfortable navigating this terrible world; cautious but not paranoid, defensive but not unnecessarily offensive. He's also blatantly obvious about using Kentarou. Whether it's just as company or a future distraction for any zombies they might come across, Kentarou doesn't doubt that Oikawa would probably leave him by himself in the store if he thought that he should. He doesn't know what Oikawa thinks he saw in him to justify keeping his company. He certainly doesn't know what it is about Oikawa that keeps him walking after him. Maybe he's just so desperate not to be alone that anyone would do. 

And Momo seems to like him. Kentarou likes to think she's always been a good judge of character- or, well, as much as a dog can be, he supposes.

"Well!" Oikawa claps his hands together for emphasis, the sound ringing out across the empty store. Kentarou tenses up at the noise. "It seems that this store has been thoroughly picked through. A shame, really." He looks over at Kentarou. "Shall we go then?"

He responds by gesturing with his hand towards the exit, eyebrows raised expectantly. Oikawa gives a tight-lipped smile in return, leading the way toward the exit. Kentarou doesn't miss the way his grip seems to tighten around the knife the closer the get to the outside, and he finds himself imitating the other man. 

His grip relaxes once they step out onto the street and don't immediately see any zombies. He swivels his head left and right, sees Oikawa doing the same out of the corner of his eye. Momo trots on ahead, sniffing the air. She doesn't seem to find anything of interest, circling back around to his side. 

"She's very well trained," Oikawa points out.

Kentarou bites the inside of his cheek. "Not trained," he corrects him. "Just loyal."

Oikawa nods in understanding. "Ah." He taps his fingers against the flat side of his blade. "Well, at any rate, she's better trained than you are."

"I'm gonna kill you."

"No you won't," Oikawa says easily, sure and confident, and it pisses Kentarou off that he's right. He grumbles under his breath and shoves his knife back in his holster to the noise of Oikawa's smug laughter. "Anyways, my group set up camp just off the highway a few miles out of town. We drove here for the supply run, I was thinking we could head back to where we parked the car."

Kentarou doesn't nod, but he hesitates in his steps just enough that Oikawa takes the hint and veers off to the right, leading the way to the car. "You're not very talkative, are you?" Oikawa asks.

"No."

"Hm, that's all right, I guess. Unless you're hiding something. Are you a bad liar, Mad Dog? Is that why you try not to speak?" Oikawa doesn't even try to hide the accusation, coming out with it full force. Kentarou tries not to be offended, because it's not like he isn't judging Oikawa by the exact same standards. The guy talks too damn much, and he'd be an idiot not to notice how his airy demeanor is a front to make him not notice the clinical way his sweep over him every few seconds. It makes him feel naked. 

"No." He doesn't know what more of an answer he's supposed to give. Despite his general unapproachableness, when he _does_ speak, Kentarou is a pretty honest guy. He hasn't lied once to Oikawa this whole time, and he doesn't plan to. Oikawa doesn't seem like the type to lie either, but he also doesn't seem like the type to tell the truth. Kentarou figures he falls somewhere in the middle, depending on what the situation calls for. He wonders what Oikawa has decided about _this_ situation. He hopes that his desperate need to not be alone doesn't fuck him over and get him killed.

Oikawa, despite his suspicions, seems to take his short answer at face value.

They keep walking, and Kentarou starts to get impatient after another ten minutes. His leg is getting sore now from all the walking- while it's mostly healed, it's still a bit tender, and he hasn't walked this much in months, having been confined to his house for so long. He does his best to keep steady, gritting his teeth through the pain so as to keep Oikawa from noticing, but it gets more difficult the longer they walk. 

Momo lets out a little whine and nudges his leg with her nose, and it's just enough pressure that he stumbles. He curses under his breath, pointedly ignoring the look he gets from Oikawa. "How far away did you fucking park?" he growls. 

Oikawa raises an eyebrow. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fucking fine," Kentarou snaps. "Just tired."

He knows that he's limping now, though, and despite the fact that it's hardly noticeable he's sure that Oikawa's picked up on it. "If you've been bitten, or scratched, I expect you to tell me," he announces. "I won't take you back to my friends if you're a danger to us."

"I wasn't _bit_ ," Kentarou hisses. He scuffs his shoes against the ground, annoyed. "Fuckin' broke my leg, it's not all the way healed yet. Should be fine in a week or so." 

He can almost feel the surprise coming off the other man. "You survived this long with a broken leg?" 

He sets his jaw. "Barely," he grumbles. It's a miracle he'd made it past the first day alive, and the week after that hadn't been too pleasant either. Granted, he's definitely had it easier than someone who's been living on the road all this time, like Oikawa. But he also doesn't owe him an explanation. 

"I didn't give you enough credit, Mad Dog! I thought you were all bark and no bite, but you're _tenacious,_ aren't you?"

Kentarou breathes out heavily through his nose, ignoring the statement. They walk the rest of the way in silence- it isn't that long, and after a few minutes they round a corner and Oikawa sighs in relief. 

"Oh thank god," he says, and it's the probably the most honest he's sounded since Kentarou met him. He jogs forward to open the door of a blue SUV, fumbling under the seat for something. He pulls it out and sits down on the floor of the car. "Radio," he says, holding up the device as if sensing Kentarou's curiosity. "I dropped mine when we got separated, but we always keep a spare in the car."

He thumbs the button, talking into the speaker. "You guys there?" he asks, and his voice is tight with worry. His nonchalant front isn't doing it's job so well anymore. "I found my way back to the car."

He's met with silence. 

He waits ten, twenty, thirty seconds before he tries again. "Guys? It's Tooru. I'm waiting back at the car. Everything alright?"

Nothing.

He frowns down at the radio, looking a little pale. "Hajime?" he tries. His voice sounds very small.

There's a long pause, and Oikawa looks like he's going to puke until a static noise comes from the speaker. "-oo-u-"

Oikawa gasps. "Hajime, is that you?" he says. 

The radio's crackling, but this time the words are more clear. "Tooru, get- van- ming!"

"What? Hello?"

Whoever is on the other end is panting, and they sound like they're moving around a lot, as if they're running. "Get in the van!" the voice says, and the static is fading. Kentarou just has time to realize it's because whoever speaking is getting closer before he hears, "We're coming and we're not alone!"

"Oh!" Oikawa blurts out, eyes wide. He turns and yanks the driver's door open and grabs the keys from under the seat, shoving them into the ignition. "Mad Dog, get in the front! And open the side door while you're at it, will you?"

It takes Kentarou a moment to realize he's being addressed. He quickly opens the side door, leaving it open as he hurries to the other side of the car and throws himself into the passenger seat. Momo jumps in after him and he grunts as she settles in on top of him before slamming the door shut. He gets a face full of fur and he grapples at the side of the seat. He finds the button that makes the chair slide back and he presses it, making room between him and the dashboard so he can nudge Momo off his thighs. Unbothered, she uses the extra room to curl up around his feet, tail wagging excitedly. Kentarou maneuvers his backpack off, setting it on his lap.

"Not exactly a lap dog, is she?" Oikawa comments, but his voice is strained as he peers out the window. "I don't- oh! There they are. Oh, yikes!"

Kentarou follows his gaze and thinks oh, yikes, indeed. There's a group of three guys running full tilt towards the car, bags slung across their backs, and a short ways behind them is a cluster of at least fifteen zombies, stumbling and grabbing for them, rotted maws open and gnawing at the air.

Momo perks up at his feet, growling, probably smelling the dead- Kentarou leans down to put a comforting hand on her head. He nearly tips forward and slams his face into the dashboard when Oikawa throws the car in reverse. "Shit!" 

"Buckle up!" the other scolds him. He does as he's asked, twisting in his seat to watch as the three guys get closer. 

"Put it in drive!" shouts the one in front. He makes it to the van first, jumping in and climbing to the far side to press himself against the door as Oikawa shifts gears. The other two are right behind him, throwing themselves in, desperately scrambling to close the door.

"Go go go!" one of them yells, and Oikawa is slamming his foot on the gas. The tires squeal and Kentarou swears he can smell rubber, and suddenly the car jerks forward. The three guys in the back lose their balance and Momo lets out a little yelp, and a few pairs of decaying hands slam against the back end of the vehicle before they're suddenly peeling away down the street. They leave the zombies in the dust.

Nobody says a word for at least a minute, the three guys catching their breath and Oikawa focusing on getting as far away from the zombies as possible. The silence is broken when the first guy, who's shorter than the others but more muscular, leans over and smacks Oikawa on the arm. "What the hell, Tooru!" he snaps, eyes wide with leftover panic. "I thought you were dead!"

Oikawa smiles brightly into the rearview mirror, but Kentarou thinks it's a little wobbly. "Sorry to disappoint you, Iwa-chan!" he sings. "I'm a bit too clever for that." Then, he gestures with his hand to the passenger seat where Kentarou sits, surprising him. "And look, I brought back a friend!"

All three heads whip towards him like they're only just noticing his presence. Kentarou tenses up at the attention, awkwardly staring at the cup holder in between the two front seats. "Is he-"

"Oh, he's fine!" Oikawa waves a hand dismissively, and some of the tension leaks out of the car. "He's a little stand-offish, but he saved my life. And he's got a dog!"

That's definitely not the whole story, but it seems to do the trick. The so called Iwa-chan heaves a great sigh of relief and Kentarou spares a glance upwards to see that he's being nodded at. "In that case, I'm Iwaizumi," he introduces himself. He points to the two on his right and left, respectively. "That's Matsukawa and Hanamaki." 

Kentarou mumbles a quiet "Kyoutani," in return, which is met with an indignant squawk from Oikawa. 

"Betrayal!" he crows, "You tell them your name but not me? I thought our connection meant something!"

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. "You didn't tell him your name?"

"No, he didn't! I had to _give_ him a name like he was some feral animal!"

"And what name did you give him?"

Oikawa huffs and turns back to the road, clearly intent on not answering, so Kentarou says, "Mad Dog."

This earns him a shriek, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa burst into laughter. "No wonder he doesn't seem to like you! Tooru, you asshole!"

"Well, I thought it was appropriate," he pouts. He side eyes Kentarou. "Does this mean you'll tell me your dog's name now?"

He shrugs lightly, because there really isn't a point in not doing so anymore. "Momo." The dog perks up at the sound of her name and she licks at his pants leg excitedly. He leans over to scratch behind her ear. 

"What? That's such a cute name!" Oikawa says. "Don't tell me you named her?"

And his mood drops just like that. "I didn't," he mumbles. Hana did. Which reminds him- "Where are you headed?"

Iwaizumi is the one who answers him. "We've set up camp near the highway, just a few miles out of town-"

"No," Kentarou shakes his head. "Your group. Are you headed anywhere?"

"Should we be?" Oikawa asks. 

Kentarou chews on the inside of his cheek. "I'm going to the refugee center. The one a few towns over, I-" he pauses, almost cutting himself off there before he thinks better of it. "I sent my little sister there. In the beginning. I promised to meet her there."

Matsukawa and Iwaizumi exchange a look that has Kentarou feeling uneasy. "You think it's still there?" Hanamaki asks.

"Is there any reason it shouldn't be?" Kentarou bristles, defensive. He doesn't like what he's implying.

"Hey, easy," Iwaizumi warns him. "What he means is that- we came from the South. To answer your earlier question, we aren't really headed anywhere in particular." He gestures between him and the others in the car. "Our whole group met at one of the safehavens. It barely lasted three days after things got really bad. I'm still not sure how we managed to get out alive. But after that, we just assumed the rest of them were gone too."

"Yours could've been the only one," Kentarou tells him, but he thinks he's saying it more for himself than anymore else.

Iwaizumi looks skeptical, but he shrugs. "You could be right. Guess we just didn't want to get out hopes up."

"We also didn't know where any of the other refugee centers were, so it's not like we could go looking," Matsukawa points out.

"I do," Kentarou says. "Know. I know where it is." 

"Now wait just a minute," Oikawa says. "You might want to go there, but we have a group to think of. We aren't just going to follow you on a whim."

Kentarou clenches his fists at the comment. "So you'd rather take your chances out in the open?" he snaps.

"What he means," Iwaizumi butts in, trying to ease the tension, "is that we need to talk about it first. We make decisions as a group." He looks around, tries to catch Oikawa's gaze in the mirror. "Personally, I'm all for it. Like I said, we don't have a set destination anyway, and on the off chance that it's still functional, that's guaranteed safety."

"But do we really trust a stranger to lead us there?" Matsukawa argues. He glances at Kentarou. "No hard feelings, man, but I just met you. For all I know, you're leading us into a trap."

"I'm not."

"That's what a person leading us into a trap would say."

"I'm not fucking-"

"I believe him." Kentarou blinks at the way Oikawa cuts him off, taking a moment to process what he's said. 

"Huh?" he says.

"Don't _you_ act so surprised!" Oikawa chastises him. "I don't trust you, but I also don't think you're lying. You're more of a brute than a snake."

Kentarou glares. "I hate you."

Oikawa laughs like he's just proved his point. "See?" he says. "He says what he means."

"We can talk about it more back at camp," Iwaizumi assures him, and he looks almost amused.

Kentarou is mostly quiet for the rest of the drive. Oikawa chatters away, filling the silence. He fills in the details of his and Kentarou's meeting for the others, and Iwaizumi catches him up on what the rest of them had done while they'd been separated. He doesn't pay attention much, scratching at Momo's chin absently as he watches the buildings turn into trees, the grass at the side of the road morphing into a green blur as they reach the highway.

Around ten minutes of driving later they start to slow down. Kentarou glances around and sees that they're up on a bit of a hill- there's some patches of trees scattered around the sides of the highway, and Oikawa pulls off to the side, next to a smaller car and a camper, stopping completely once they're adjacent to one of the clusters. He puts the car in park and removes the keys, putting them back under the seat.

"Hey, Kyoutani." Kentarou jerks at the sound of his name, glancing over his shoulder to see Iwaizumi looking back at him. "Let me do the talking, okay?"

"Like he was planning on saying much anyway," Oikawa says. "Iwa-chan, I'll leave you to deal with the peanut gallery then. I'm taking this one to Yahaba."

Iwaizumi furrows his brow at this, but he nods. He sends Kentarou a concerned look before leaning over to open the door. He hops out, slinging his bag over his shoulder, Hanamaki and Matsukawa following suit. 

"Who's Yahaba?" Kentarou asks warily.

"He's our medic!" Oikawa tells him cheerily. "Or, well, he's the closest thing we have to one. He took a few amateur classes back in high school. I want him to look at your leg."

"What if I don't want to?" he asks. 

Oikawa waves him off. "This is for my peace of mind, not yours." Kentarou frowns, but he doesn't argue. "Like I said, I don't think you have any reason to lie, but I like to be thorough. Can't be too careful these days."

He makes a noise of assent before he, too, opens his door and steps out of the car. He arches his back, stretching, as Momo uncurls herself and jumps out after him, zig-zagging all over the grassy area. She hunkers down near the edge of the trees and starts sniffing around the trunks for a good place to pee, so Kentarou busies himself with walking after Oikawa, who's already left the car and is headed towards the trees. He makes sure to grab his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders.

Once they break the tree line, Kentarou has to maneuver around a few noise traps, but it's only about twenty seconds of walking before he spots the camp. There aren't any tents- just a cluster of sleeping bags and supplies around a campfire. He spots Iwaizumi talking to a group of people- aside from Hanamaki and Matsukawa, there's four other people, and they all look over when they spot Kentarou. He bristles at the attention, looking away from the group to stare at a tree. 

"That him?" one of them says. 

"No," Oikawa says. "This is the other guy we picked up in the city." Out of the corner of his eye, Kentarou sees the one who'd spoken- a tall guy with fluffy brown hair- raise his fist, a certain finger sticking up above the rest. "Oh, very mature," Oikawa huffs. "Yahaba, I need to talk to you. Come here a sec."

The guy, Yahaba, exchanges a glance with the guy next to him before making his way over. The rest of the group turns back to Iwaizumi, who continues talking, but this one guy with a buzzcut keeps glancing over at Kentarou. Oikawa moves forward, meeting Yahaba halfway before tugging his arm and bringing him a little ways away from everyone. Kentarou chews on the inside of his cheek as he watches the two of them talk, glancing over at him every once in a while. He twists the strings of his backpack to keep himself from doing something that might make the others wary, like clenching his fists or gripping the hilt of his knife. Sometime while he's standing there, Momo finds his way back to him, licking at his hand in greeting. He leans down to scratch at her ear affectionately.

After an agonizing few minutes, Oikawa shoos Yahaba over in his direction. The guy rolls his eyes but he moves, walking towards towards Kentarou. He eyes Momo as he approaches. "Nice dog," he comments, reaching out his hand. "I'm Yahaba."

Kentarou grunts. "Kyoutani."

Yahaba raises an eyebrow when he doesn't take his hand, but after a few moments he just sighs and lets it flop back to his side. "Oikawa was right, you're about as personable as a wet rock. Let's get this over with." Kentarou frowns at the insult but sits when Yahaba gestures for him to do so, rolling up his pant leg. "So," Yahaba drawls, poking at his leg. "Oikawa tells me you broke your leg. When was that?" 

It takes a moment to think of the answer. Images flash in his mind- teeth clamping around a throat, a body stripped clean of muscle, three corpses on the floor of his bedroom. He blinks them away. "Fifty-eight days ago."

"Damn," Yahaba says. He prods at the bone, squeezing here and there. "Tell me if it hurts. And where the hell were you that you managed to survive with a broken bone? It can't have been the road."

Kentarou stares hard at the hand on his leg. "My house."

"By yourself?" Yahaba asks.

It takes a few seconds before he manages to mumble, "I had Momo." Momo licks at his cheek when he says her name, and he curls a gentle hand around her upper leg, keeping her there. 

There must be something in his expression that gives the rest away, because Yahaba sucks in a breath through his teeth. "I'm sorry," he says. Kentarou just shrugs, wanting to avoid the topic further. Yahaba adjusts the hand on his leg, digs his fingers into a certain spot, and he tenses up at the little flare of pain that shoots up his leg. The other boy looks up at him. "Did that hurt?"

"'S just sore," Kentarou tells him. "Hurts if I walk on it too long."

Yahaba hums, contemplating. "Was it a clean break?" Kentarou nods, earning a grimace in response. "Those take longer to heal. I'm assuming you set it yourself?" Another nod. "From what I can tell, you did a pretty good job. But I'm not going off of much. It'll probably be another week or two before the pain goes away completely, depending on how much stress you put on it while it was healing. If the pain lasts longer than that, you might've fucked up the set. Not much we can really do if that's the case, though."

Kentarou presses his forehead into Momo's fur as Yahaba finally pulls his hands away from his leg. His skin burns where it had been touched, and he hurries to pull down his pant leg in an attempt to cover it up. After two months of being alone, it's strange to have someone else touch him, much less talk to him. He's not used to so much at once. 

"It'll be good to have a dog around here," Yahaba says conversationally. "They can sense things we can't."

"Yeah."

"You said her name was Momo, right?"

"Yeah."

There's a pause, and then a loud sigh. "Do you not want to talk to me, or are you just like that?"

Kentarou eyes the other man, suspicious. "Like what?"

Yahaba blinks at him. "You don't-? Huh." He lets out this little breathy laugh of disbelief, though Kentarou isn't sure what's funny. "Guess that answers my question."

"What," Kentarou says. 

"Nothing, nothing!" Yahaba assures him, but Kentarou has the distinct feeling he's being made fun of. His shoulders tense up, though he doesn't respond, bringing his thighs up against his chest so he can rest his chin on his knees. 

Eventually Yahaba seems to grow tired of the lack of responses and heads back towards the group. They've mostly dispersed now and are doing their own things- Hanamaki and Matsukawa are snickering and drawing something in the dirt, Oikawa and Iwaizumi are huddled together on top of one of the sleeping bags. Kentarou is only a little shocked when he notices their fingers threaded together, the way Oikawa curls into Iwaizumi's side even though he's taller. Nobody bats an eye, and Kentarou certainly doesn't have an issue with it, and weirdly enough it's almost comforting to know that even in all of this, shit like that still exists. Yahaba makes his way back to his friend with the buzz cut, and the other two, who look at least a couple years younger than the rest, are just talking, though the one with the spiky hair keeps getting distracted by whatever Hanamaki and Matsukawa are doing and bursting into giggles. 

Kentarou can't bring it upon himself to intrude their little bubble, so he stays where he is. He rummages through his bag until his fingers close around the spine of one of his books and he pulls it out, opening it to the first page. He entertains himself reading, and Momo sits next to him, letting him lean against her and press his cheek into her shoulder. The chatter in the background is only a little distracting, and he manages to get through six chapters before he's interrupted by a noisily approaching Oikawa.

"Didn't peg you as the studious type," he muses, eye on the book. "You keep subverting my expectations, Mad Dog!"

Kentarou dog-ears the page and tucks it back into his bag. "You know my name now," he says.

Oikawa narrows his eyes. "Well _you_ refused to tell me what it was, so I think I'll just keep using the one I picked for you." Kentarou rolls his eyes, but he doesn't think that arguing will get him very far, so he stays quiet. Oikawa takes it as an invitation to continue. "Anyways, just wanted to let you know that we've got an extra sleeping bag for you in the camper. I'll send Kindaichi to fetch it in a bit. I share with Iwa-chan so it's not like either of us need it." He looks down at Kentarou like he's challenging him to make a comment about it.

"Okay," is all he says. He might imagine it, but Oikawa's shoulders loosen up ever so slightly. 

"Alright then!" He claps his hands together. "The suns going to set any minute now, and I'm sure you're tired, so we've all agreed to discuss the refugee center tomorrow. Big day!"

True to his word, Oikawa sends Kindaichi and the other boy, Kunimi, to grab the spare sleeping bag from the camper. They set him up on the edge of the sleeping bag circle that's closest to the highway. The sun sets and the fire is lit, and Oikawa explains how there are always two people on watch, and that at some point they wake up another two to take their place. He assures Kentarou that he won't be on watch tonight, and so when the sun sets and the air cools around them, Kentarou crawls into his sleeping bag and curls up. Momo sniffs at his ear a bit before laying down behind him so that their backs around touching.

He falls asleep clutching his backpack to his chest, with the noise of the fire and the feeling of Momo breathing against his back surrounding him, and for the first time in months, he doesn't feel so alone.


End file.
